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Thursday, September 10, 2015

Is the Government really telling me what or what not to eat?
I mean, are we still a functioning democracy? I don’t know exactly but last I
checked my fundamental rights were still not extinct.

And all this from a person who has never had an anda her entire life. Yes, that’s
right. Gape all you want but a strict
vegetarian is standing right up against this absurd ban. Because this is not
about an ‘anda’ or even a ‘murgi’ per se. This is about my FREEDOM
OF CHOICE. These three words I wish to use more cautiously than any others for
the fear that they have been toyed around with for so long that, unfortunately
enough, they seem to have lost their essence.

Today as an ‘uchh koti
ka brahmin’ I can easily choose to
keep shut and look the other way because the government is favoring my set of
beliefs. (I too feel strongly against people eating meat – and by meat I mean
any kind of meat – NOT JUST COWS. If you ask me, no animal should be
slaughtered. Ever!)

Famous Russian thinker Leo Tolstoy once said and I quote, “A
man can live and be healthy without killing animals for food; therefore if he
eats meat, he participates in taking animal life merely for the sake of his
appetite. And to act so is immoral.”

AGAIN IMMORAL – NOT ILLEGAL.

Big difference, sitting right there on that tiny little
hyphen.

Because what is illegal for me is also illegal for my
neighbor or his dhobi. But what I
consider to be immoral might as well be a most respected custom in my neighbor’s
house, situated right next to mine.

So to expect, (or much worse, to support) the government in
such crazy endeavors, so as to blow the trumpet against people eating meat is
not only out rightly stupid but also giving it unnecessary control over my
personal life.

For what if tomorrow comes a government which wants me to
only eat meat? If I’d want to open my mouth and rebel then, I better rebel now.

Granted that with our much loved Freedom of choice also come
certain responsibilities towards the society but I fail to understand that how
exactly is what-I-choose-to-eat interfering with anybody else’s business. What
I choose to do within the privacy of my home should in no way be subjected to
governmental scrutiny. Because this is exactly how it begins – the taking
charge of our lives by the very people we chose to serve us – NOT RULE.

Is anybody else not finding it hard to digest (pun intended)
that why suddenly is it upon the Government to decide my menu at home? And why
is the government not bothered about the issues that it should actually be taking
up? And how easily is the government able to distract us citizens by waving
it’s chunchuna of meaningless issues,
almost every second day.

And, last but the most unfortunate queries of all, Why do we
Indians never know, what exactly to be pissed about?

Saturday, May 23, 2015

So this woman I know, sends me a heavy duty message telling me that she doesn't like my book.
And I am like, ''Me too sista! I am with you on this. Up top.''
I mean why the hell am I not promoting it in the first place?
COZ I GENUINELY BELIEVE THAT I SHOULD NOT BE INFLICTING THIS TORTURE ON HUMANS OF CHANDIGARH and the rest. (only exception here are my poor friends, who had to pay the price of being my friends and they are not complaining - well atleast not to my face. DEAR GOD, I HOPE I HAVE NOT PROVIDED THEM WITH A PLATFORM HERE (BITES NAILS))

Jokes aside..
I should have done a better job.
No questions asked.
But at the same time I am unapologetic as shit.
I tried - I failed - and true to my character, I wil l try again - and will fail - AGAIN- GRANTED.

But no way in hell am I tendering apologies.
You wanna get back at me.. Write an even shittier book and hope that I read it ;-)
Good day!

This kind of ridiculous shit goes down in almost every second marriage (Arranged or otherwise).

And I say 'second' because be it an arranged or a love marriage there still are people who opt for sanity - and manage to form a bond, everlasting - without making a farce of an otherwise beautiful ceremony.

And trust me, their number is not so small that you can so easily choose to overlook them.

So why just make arranged marriage alone a target?
Oh! Wait. Let me guess. Because it's 'cooler' to ridicule the tradition.. Isn't it?
Because how else will you get those pre-teen nerds to hit like and make you popular, if not by making fun of something they don't anyway understand.

And the sorry little part of your video that actually does somewhat still strives to focus on the concept of an arranged marriage. Well it couldn't have been more exaggerated and fucked up?

You actually think every arranged marriage begins with a girl dressed up like a junior artist from the sets of Chameli walking in with a tray of samosas?
Or is it because (to quote from your own video) ''BOLLYWOOD SAYS SO"

And while we are at it - the sooner you get out of your Dil. Chahta Hai mode - the better off you are. Because the whole 'go show him your room' charade was so fucking passe and far from reality that you should be calling yourself All India Balaji from now on..

Ever heard of Bistros, Lounges or coffeehouses.. That's where some people are going these days, I hear. The girl's room is like so very seventy's.. Should have done some research you guys.

And sorry to burst your silly little bubble but no sane mother on the entire Indian subcontinent would secretly wish to whore her daughters out, be it to the world's most eligible bachelor, far less an 'MBA'. You have got her all wrong, the mother.

And what world are you living in if you think that girl's qualification doesn't matter? Have you people become so like-hungry that you have started cashing in on such stuff too. Today when the government and people are working side by side to promote girl child.. You should be ashamed of your selves making fun of sensitive issues such as her education and the fact that she is addressed as a 'liability'. Sorry guys not funny.. Just plain irresponsible of you.

Through the whole AIB roast controversy I stood by your side and the fact that no matter what every body had a right to freedom of expression.. But not anymore.. You just lost a fan..

Well I could have gone on but I. guess I have made my point. And if you didn't get it by now - you probably won't.

So guys next time you set out to ridicule something you don't quite understand, DONT DO IT.
Because there's funny and there's trying very hard to be funny-- Big difference.
You people are affecting masses here.. Show some responsibility.

Because in this day and age it's very easy to fall in love over the internet and force your decision down your parents throats in the name of love marriage - what takes real mettle - is to make your parents a part of this important decision of your life... And it's not bad at all.

Tuesday, March 31, 2015

To bend the rules of feminism, as per my convenience - MY CHOICETo have the audacity of hope to get out of a traffic challan with a
lame smile and a corny 'sorry bhaiya' and then to wage a war against
'inequality' - MY CHOICETo be stupid enough to take (or star in)
a Kelloggs two week challange and then to voice 'concern' about women
all size - MY CHOICETo hop to the
tunes of a woman practically begging her man to take her shopping cause
she has white arms and then coming back home to rant about women rights
- MY CHOICETo post about a hundred selfies a day and to be dumb enough to think that I get feminism - MY CHOICETo expect to be taken care of in every slightly hasseling situation by
my boyfriend, brother or father and then to lull myself into believing
that I have a semblance of a sense of equality in me - MY CHOICETo bitch my mouth bloody about girls (most of them my friends) for being
loose and immoral and then to blow the trumpet on my sexual freedom -
MY CHOICETo jump like a demented cow at the idea of a 'ladies night' and then to quote equality as my middle name - MY CHOICETo expect a man to be courteous to me not by his own choice but by
default because that suits me just fine and then to proudly hope that he
sees me no different than a man- MY CHOICETo take pride in my
fucked up notions of feminism, liberty and equality and to actually
mistake myself for a feminist - MY BLOODY CHOICE

Monday, February 16, 2015

Twinkle
Khanna’s recent blog on our double
standards on tolerance actually got me thinking. She said what she said and
while it was one of the most sensible things I have read in last couple of days
but there remains a fact if not for her 10 X 10 picture accompanying the
article, would the blog have been equally viral? How I wish the answer was Yes.

I liked her
blog so much that I shared it instantly but as soon as I put the post on my
timeline, I knew something about it was irking
me and it was that picture - over and above the post. And then I realized my
mistake. I had shared it from the wrong place, where the editor (or whoever
runs the show) had thought it necessary to put a picture that size to make
readers want to read it, as if without a pretty picture suddenly her words
would lose essence.

Needless to
say I rectified my mistake and found the right link soon but this got me
thinking.

You know I
have been facing somewhat of a similar situation but on a very very teeeeeny
tiny scale.

Ever since
my book got out, I have been getting calls for interviews and online write ups
on me. Yes, that’s right ‘on me’ and not so much on the book. Which, I’ll be
honest, is really bugging. Because
whether or not you have my three pictures tagged along with that darned
interview it will still be an interview but nope, nothing doing, nobody is
interested in that.

‘Ya, ya, you
have written a book, good for you. What else you got?’

Send us some
six pictures to attach with your meaningless words and be done with it.

Which brings
me to the bone of contention (you know I hardly would blog if there was no
bone) which is – Jury is out whether I can even dare to call myself a writer but
what I know for a fact is that I am most definitely not a salesgirl and I am
not even gloating about it.

Infact it’s a quality I wish I had but nada.

And to be completely honest, it’s not that I
did not try. But a week of promoting my own work and it was enough to jolt me
back into the reality – LET THE READERS DECIDE.

My friend A,
in a very matter of factly way foretold me this even before I was about to
embark on my little sales adventure - that the moment you submitted your book
for print – that was it- your job was done.

‘Give it a
rest now,’ he had said.

But me being
me, true to my character, did not grasp the hidden genius in his well meaning advice
right away. I did my bit (which if you ask the people back at my publication
house is just the tip of an iceberg) but still I did some promotion at least.

But it had
not even been three days and there I was totally siding with A on this, against
my own interest (if you want to look at it in a very day to day manner.)

What was I
afraid of? If the book was good, it’d sell. If not what could I do anyway?

So much so
that I wouldn’t even say that I was even torn between A’s wisdom and my ambitious
sales record.

The Verdict
was out – I CANT SELL.

I just can’t.
I mean to silently dare to dream that your novel is well received is one thing
but to go on with the self promotion and self praise, I think it’s downright
demeaning.

Forget
hardcore PR, I can’t even bring myself to do a facebook advertisement. And why
should I? I know it’s out there, I know there are people who will somehow bump
into my little baby and if they find it intriguing enough they’d probably say
hi. Okay I think I went a bit overboard with the metaphor here but the point is
why not trust the readers or to be more precise the netizens?Every now and then we do tumble into stuff which we really like and share. And who knows one such day some of you find your way to my book and I go something like this...

Thursday, August 28, 2014

I hate the fact that I am the girl who ‘understands’ him,
while some other girl gets to marry him.

I hate being that cool friend, you know, who is one of the
guys only – but maybe just not cool enough to be anything more than that. Sitting
in my living room as I go through every little detail of his recent escapades
and womanly endeavors over the phone, I secretly hope that he sees what he is
missing –that how good we could have had it together. That he wasn’t so fucking
blind.. or maybe, so fucking chicken ;-) That he realizes that time is running
out. That I am not 21 anymore.

‘You know you are something else only,’ when he casually slips
in a compliment, during one of our never ending conversations – I bloody gush
like a teenager and mull over it for hours. What does it mean? Does he subconsciously
love me? Maybe he does, he just needs to realize it. And then suddenly I have ‘yuck’
written all over me. I am Kajol from
Kuch kuch hota hai – who only gets a mercy wedding because Rani Mukherjee fucking
dies. SERIOUSLY, YUCK YUCK YUCK. Have I sunk that low really?

And then I decide to end it once and for all, I go out, have
fun and try not to think about it. But apparently, that also is not supposed to
ease the pain. Because he still needs someone to listen to his
endless tales, and in turn pander to the ‘ego’ he doesn’t know he has and who
better than a girl, who he can talk about anything to. Because she doesn’t
pretend – calls a spade a spade- and lives by her own rules. In short a girl
who is one of the guys.

But how on earth am I
to put it across the table that I want a romance not a fucking bromance. Cause
dude, I am not your damn wingman. I am as much entitled to emotions and feeling
as any one of your ‘trophy’ girl friends, or, the wife dear mummy ji is going to approve of. And
while that may not be your problem, but you sure can do one thing… CHOOSE A
SIDE, and then stick to it. Because I am
sick and tired of being ‘something else’. For once in my life, I want to be a
typical typical girl, who gets the best of both worlds.

‘I am going out tonight.’

‘With who?’ pat comes the reply.

‘This friend, you don’t really know him,’ I reply, playing
it as casually as I possibly can (God knows I have a bloody predictable voice
and a face).

‘Guy friend?’

‘Yes a guy friend. Why? Is that an issue,’ I ask, dearly
hoping for a hint of jealousy somewhere.

‘No, no, are you mad? You have my blessings,’ the assole
grins, ripping apart any possible hopes of a fairy tale ending between us ;-)

But, get this, you pig – I don’t need your blessings. All I
need from you is for you to walk out of your stupid oblivion for once, where
you stay so blissfully unaware of people around you and their feelings. And if
that is too damned difficult for you to do, then just take a hike. So long. I
have no time, emotions or fight left to invest in you. Because you know I am
done secretly laughing at some girl you are with – because she reads classics
like ‘how to sound cool n classy’. I am done being a confession box to you. I
am done being your radio. But most
importantly, I am done pretending. Move on and leave me alone seriously!

Because, all said and done, I am still only the girl who ‘gets’
you and yet doesn’t get to get you.

I am probably the only person I know, who has fun through
the week and sits home on the weekends.

Grumpy as hell, I reach my office almost on time (terms and conditions apply), bumping into some and closely escaping many many lawyers (trust me early
morning we all look like penguins gone mad).

I am usually on an empty stomach because surprise
surprise I only woke up half an hour
before ten (thanks to the unplanned karaoke the night before) and all I could
squeeze in, in those thirty precious minutes is a quick shower and a ride to
the Court. Just as I take my seat, my friend C states the much obvious fact – "YOU ARE LATE."

'Here's twenty five things you didn't know about costumes of Humpty Sharma ki Dulhaniya' she flashes the post under my nose.

'I will book you for contempt of Court, trust me, I am not joking.'

'Wow! You are really a morning person. Can't tell you what a treat it is to chat you up in the morning.'

‘I am hungry,’ I whine.

'We’ll go eat during the tea break,'
she gives me the much needed himmat.

This is my standard set routine, almost every day - except for that one odd day when I sleep on time. You know? The day I decide to be a game changer. The day which never lasts even a full blown twenty four hours. The day when no matter how much I hate doing it - I miraculously convince myself that I am meant to sleep on time.

Anyway, back to my weekly schedule - so I have a sad and a very questionable sandwich at eleven - and a cappuccino with a K ;-) - which sums up my brunch and is not even strong enough to wake up Grumpy, the dwarf' let alone me.

Somehow I get through the day and by evening manage to drag my half dead posterior home.

Because I am highly sleep deprived not because I work so hard.

Only to have another evening of unplanned fun and repeat the same routine the next day.

And bam! Before I know, it’s the damned weekend again. And
suddenly, through no conscious efforts, I am sleeping on time, waking up on
time, cooking my own food, writing blogposts and also working out properly –
and all this while I am as chirpy as a cheeky little bird. Which is all very
very good – except that shouldn’t it be the other way round?

Shouldn’t I be up and about through the week and a little
lazed out on the weekends?

But then irony is the flavor of my life...

I fall for the wrong guy AND friendzone the right one.

A strict vegetarian my whole life I end up eating chicken wai wai by accident on a Tuesday (that too during navratras).

I rarely ever get a crush but when I do I make sure that it's so very
highly impractical that in front of him even prince Harry will look more
attainable.

I crack the entrance with a promising rank and then manage myself a semester back.

I yearn good company and yet am mostly alone.

For all the big talk that I do - I believe an arranged marriage is the best thing that can happen to anyone.